beautiful. There's always plenty of willing lads to take over the job of
prince regent under such circumstances."

The spine of the New Mexican stiffened ever so slightly. "Señorita
Valdés is princess of the Rio Chama valley. Her dependents understan'
she is of a differen' caste, a descendant of the great and renowned Don
Alvaro of Castile."

"Don't think I know the gentleman. Who was he?" asked Gordon genially,
offering his guest a cigar.

Pesquiera threw up his neat little hands in despair. "But of a certainty
Mr. Gordon has read of Don Alvaro de Valdés y Castillo, lord of demesnes
without number, conqueror of the Moors and of the fierce island English
who then infested Spain in swarms. His retinue was as that of a king. At
his many manors fed daily thirty thousand men at arms. In all Europe no
knight so brave, so chivalrous, so skillful with lance and sword. To the
nobles his word was law. Young men worshiped him, the old admired, the
poor blessed. The queen, it is said, love' him madly. She was of
exceeding beauty, but Don Alvaro remember his vows of knighthood and
turn his back upon madness. Then the king, jealous for that his great
noble was better, braver and more popular than he, send for de Valdés to
come to court."

"I reckon Don Alvaro ought to have been sick a-bed that day and unable
to make the journey," suggested Dick.

"So say his wife and his men, but Don Alvaro scorn to believe his king a
traitor. He kiss his wife and babies good-bye, ride into the trap
prepare' for him, and die like a soldier. God rest his valiant soul."